This is really not looking good at all
by Chunkymonkey259
Summary: First quasistory! There's some language, no slash. So anyway, watch three random people fall into ME and have serious problems while drawing ever closer to a grisly demise.
1. Chapter 1: Where we meet Kyra

**Disclaimer: Whee! I own nothing at all here! Nill! Zip! Nada!**

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Dammit, it was cold, wet, and nasty. Unfortunately, she would never be able to see its original colour, because her subsequent vomit attack had coated everything within a radius of 6 metres with a soft blanket of stomach acid and semi-digested food. Not a pleasant way to start a morning. Even worse, her favourite blue halter top was ruined.

"Christ, what the hell _is_ this?" Kyra asked (to herself, obviously).

She was soon to find out, because as soon as she tried to place her hand on the ground to get up, there was a loud, gooey, squelching sound coupled with some cold, viscous substance oozing between her fingers. Kyra's body immediately started the extremely effective "Possible Disease" response protocol, ignoring that her stomach had already been cleared of everything previously inside it. The effectiveness of the "Possible Disease" response protocol has been questioned, because it's incredibly unclear as to how spewing a torrent of quasi-soup will help to eliminate pathogens.

Kyra moved her hand to the left. Again, the squelching. But also, something smooth, hard, and curved. Hmmmm. Taking a desperate gamble, she turned her head to look at her hand, and, by extension, the substances it was resting in.

"Oh, my, god. OH MY GOD!"

A thick, darkish sort of red ooze had enveloped her fingers, and her palm was resting on what appeared to be a rib. Suddenly, she realized why her pants were starting to feel moist.

_Oh_ _fuck_. _I am sitting in a fucking dead body. Shit, shit, shit._

Kyra was, however, still at a loss as to what nature of a dead body it was. Turning her head quickly, she was able to determine that in addition to being rather black and fuzzy, it had four legs, a tail, and a long neck. The head remained invisible. Kyra looked around again and rose. She quickly spotted it laying in a river-like mass of flowing water, which she had been unable to notice before, being preoccupied with the horrors of the halter-top and disgusto-fingers. To her surprise, she found a big black cloth-like blob, with something underneath it. Being the naturally curious person that she was, Kyra looked under the blob, which was also cold, wet, and nasty.

"Sweet. A sword," she said, rather sarcastically.

Most people would have been happy to have a sword in place like that, for swords have an incredible myriad of uses, the discussion of which is beyond the scope of this story. Kyra, however, would have preferred: a) a cell phone, b) some lip gloss, c) some soap for her hands, or d) a new halter top. Sadly, none of these were to be found.

With a metallic _zing_, she pulled the thing out of the scabbard. It took a good deal of effort, for the metal had already started to rust, and Kyra veered towards the thin-because-of-eating-habits side, rather than the thin-because-of-exercise side. Still, she managed to get the thing out, and...

... managed to cut herself. A big, nasty looking gash on her _dirty_ palm. Caused by lack of ability to have a sword magically suspend itself in the air when you put the blade on your hand with no support whatsoever.

So Kyra was left there with a bleeding hand, which was surrounded by decomposing body matter, cold, wet, and feeling generally miserable. So what did she do? She sat down and cried.


	2. Chapter 2: Berries are evil

Disclaimer: Umm, duh, I totally don't own LoTR.

Oh, I also don't think the people who do the 30-hour famine are geeks.

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Chapter 2: Berries are evil.

Kyra looked around. After her great session of weeping, she had finally had the sense to wash most of the material off her hand in the river. But she hadn't been able to find anything to make a bandage with besides the black wet cloth thing, and she definitely wasn't wrapping her had up in that. She had decided to take the sword with her, despite having no idea how to use it properly. Still, she figured she was better off with it than without it. She had been picking her way through the area for about 2 hours, but she hadn't made much progress.

It was starting to get dark, and as such the temperature was dropping. She was only wearing her halter-top and jeans and was starting to shiver. Kyra also had absolutely no idea where she was going. She had just started walking along the path of the river. However, she did know that sooner or later she was going to need to figure out where she was going. Seeing as it was around evening, the sun would be in the west. Kyra stopped walking, and looked up. Well, there it was. So if that was west, then she was going something like southwest. That was fine by her. Going south meant that it was going to get warmer.

At this point Kyra's stomach growled loudly. She hadn't seen anything that she was willing to eat yet, and as far as she could tell there were no fish in the river. Faced with a hungry night herself, she was starting to grudgingly admire those geeks who did the 30-hour famine. Her legs were tired from all the walking, (she had never put much effort into Phys. Ed. at school, and wasn't really a fan of strenuous exercise anyway. "It screws up my hair,") so she decided to find a place comfortable enough to sleep. She soon found a spot which was nice and flat and big enough for her to stretch out. After going to get a quick drink from the river she sat down on her new bed. It was getting darker, and soon there wasn't enough light to see very far. Kyra had never been scared of the dark before but she was now. She was cold, alone, tired, and she didn't really know where she was. She did know that she most probably wasn't on Earth, but that didn't help much. She wasn't even sure how she had gotten here. She likened it to dreaming. Undoubtedly something interesting and important happened but you could never remember it. The noises all around her weren't helping. She thought she heard footsteps at least 3 times in as many minutes. All she really wanted now was to just go to sleep. Kyra soon found out that the ground is a lot harder than a mattress and that trying to sleep without a pillow when she'd had one for the last 14 years is quite difficult. After rolling around trying to get into a semi-comfortable position, she finally gave up and sat up again. She would have gone looking for another place to sleep but it was so dark now that she wasn't about to risk tripping over a large quantity of stones and anthills. It was a windless night and the sky was clear. She was amazed at how many stars she could see. At home the lights were always on in the streets and a person was lucky if they could see the Big Dipper or Cassiopeia. She missed the sounds of the city though. She missed the soft hum of a car going by, the quick clap-trap-clap of a person walking home, and the occasional pounding of the bass from a concert somewhere. Laying down and curling up again, she finally went to sleep.

Waking up the next morning, Kyra found herself covered in prickly little fruits and little clods of dirt. She was still cold and hungry, but now with the beginnings of a nasty cold. She felt dizzy and tired even though she had slept without interruption all through the night. The cut on her hand was throbbing and the flesh around it looked infected.

"Great," she said to herself, "this is exactly what I need. An infected hand and pneumonia. Just great."

After taking a few minutes to pick off the larger spiky things and dirt clods she set off southwest again, but now with a keen eye for anything that could serve as breakfast. Her problem was that the area seemed eerily devoid of life. There were small river plants growing on the banks, but any animals in the area were doing a splendid job of staying hidden and silent. 'Bwaa,' she thought, 'it's pointless. I'm not going to find any food here; even if I did I have no way to cook it. I'm probably going to die out here in this version of refrigerator-land, either from starvation, blood poisoning, or hypothermia.' Just as she finished thinking this, a small bunny ran across her path. Kyra figured it was better than nothing, and tore after it. As she ran she desperately tried to get the sword into her good hand the infected palm started stinging again. Meanwhile, the bunny had managed to disappear. She stopped running and cursed. 'Why do the little fuckers run so fast? Dammit, my hand hurts like a bitch. This is so not my fault! I'll bet those hos back at school are laughing their asses off. Fucking nerds. This is their entire fault. They're the only people who could have made my fucking toilet swallow me!' She drove the sword into the ground in frustration. She was hungry, and those nerds had helped that rabbit get away. It was so obvious.

Kyra's train of thought stayed like that for the rest of the morning, switching back to how she could get food as lunchtime approached. She had gone farther than she had the previous day, but there still wasn't anything that she really felt like eating. She was getting tired from all the walking, and sword in her hand was feeling quite heavy. Mumbling curses she sat down and decided to take a break. After a lengthy grumbling session, she turned around and saw the first real glimmer of hope for food yet. It was a small, brown, and prickly bush, but there were berries on it. Sauntering over and looking a good deal smugger than she ought to have, Kyra tore a couple of the berries off the bush. Popping them into her mouth and chewing, she found they had a rather sour taste. But at this stage anything tasted good. While she gathered up more into her hands, her stomach gave a happy rumble of approval. Wiping her juice-covered hands on her jeans, Kyra swore again as the infection sent another spike of pain rushing through her arm. After getting the berries and the sword into her hand, she decided she might find more food if she tried going away from the river.

She continued that way for another couple of hours before she noticed that her insides were feeling very strange. She thought she felt her stomach twisting around in knots, and fell down with a cry. It seemed that her digestive tract had decided to start cramping up. She wanted to vomit, but her throat was closing. Curling up in a little ball, Kyra realized what was happening. She threw the remaining berries as far away from her as she could, which wasn't too far. With tears streaming down her face, she tried using the sword to help her get up. She got about halfway into the air before a fresh wave of pain brought her back down. After trying this five more times with the same result, Kyra realized that she wasn't going anywhere until her stomach gave up.

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I am having so much fun coming up with difficult situations for her. She deserves it too!

SouthernGaelic – I'm terribly sorry my grammar and spelling aren't up to scratch. I will try to make my chapters longer too. Oh, by the way, I think you are awesome. Sorry for the sucking-up.

Calliope Foster - I try not to be abrasive when commenting. All it does is annoy people. Anyway, that sword is going to be very important later on. I know it's not exactly canon for her to find a Ringwraith's sword, and I will probably get flamed for it. Though, according to one of the Rivendell elves (I can't remember who), they found a tattered cloak on the banks. But they would have found the sword too, because Kyra arrived after they'd first found the horses. After all, they were decomposing.

Ooh, true fact. I was stupid enough not to proof-read my chapters, so my spelling was horrible. I feel like a total idiot because I can't punctuate dialogue properly.


	3. Chapter 3: Wanst and scouts

An update to a story that no one is reading.

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Chapter 3: Wangst and scouts.  
Kyra was very hungry. She had been travelling for three days, but she still couldn't eat anything after the ordeal with the berries. She had no idea what kind of berries they were, but she was sure that she wasn't going to be eating anything for a while. This made it hard to keep going, because her body gave ever more earnest demands for food. Her clothes were ripped and her bare arms were covered in cuts and scratches. She had fallen over onto the hard ground more than once, and it was frequently carpeted with a wild assortment of prickles and stones. She had managed to keep the sword, but it felt continuously heavier in her hand as she progressed. Kyra had considered dropping it five times already. She had abandoned her plan of going away from the river, because she had been unable to find any water at all. So now she would go in a large loop, going away in the morning and going back in the afternoon. 

Right now she was returning to the banks, dragging the heavy metal behind her. The sky was a pale mix of pinks, blues, and yellows, and the sun was setting slowly. Off to the east there was a large blanket of dark grey clouds, though she couldn't tell where they were going.

A strong wind had picked up a while ago, and she shivered. It was so cold, and all she had on was her halter top and jeans. She let out an exaggerated sigh. Everything always happened to her. She got bad grades just because the teachers liked the nerds who studied more; her boyfriend had dumped her because she had wanted him to get her the five-hundred-dollar dress; and now she was stuck in some nature freak hole with no food in sight. Her infected hand had only gotten worse, and it was now leaking four different colours of pus. It had also been numb for a while, which was a relief because it meant that she could carry things with it again. Kyra wondered whether it was because it was so infected or because of the cold. She didn't care all that much either way, because as long as the hand worked it was fine by her.

The river had rejoined her; it was flowing just as loudly and swiftly as before. Kyra had never been much of a nature person, but now for some reason the sound of the water was very comforting. Around her the evergreens were bristling with needles, and between them an occasional deciduous tree would poke up like a wire sculpture. Every so often she saw small animals darting in and out of the trees.

For the fourth time in a day, she sat down. Walking was made much harder without proper nutrition, and her body was swiftly emptying its stores. Kyra remembered reading something about how an average human could survive for about four weeks without food. If a person was fourteen, that would probably mean they could go for three and a half weeks.

"Great. So what is there to eat out here? I'm not ripping apart some squirrel," she snarled. She picked the sword off the ground and flung it off into the trees. She spent the next five minutes snapping twigs and kicking soil around. Once she became bored with that, Kyra decided to lean against a tree feeling sorry for herself and sulking. The wind had almost disappeared by now, and everything had quickly gotten very quiet. If Kyra had chanced to look up she would have seen the dark clouds from before; now they were hovering overhead and espousing a very dark grey. Kyra didn't look up, but it scarcely made a difference, because at that moment it started to rain. She looked up and started swearing again, but not before she dove for cover underneath a particularly dense patch of branches.

It was still raining and dark when she woke up, and her hair was full of wet pine needles. The clouds were disappearing over the tree tops, and the rain gradually puttered out. Kyra got up and went down to the river for a drink. She wanted to start walking again for some reason. She went back to the area where she had tossed the sword and spent five minutes looking before she found it. This, she thought, is very strange. Maybe this is "getting your second wind"? Whatever it is, it'd better last.

She went with the river as it left the forest and opened onto a large barren plain. Off to the south the moon illuminated something that appeared to be a marsh. The wind was back again, but now it brushed by her gently. All seemed right in Kyra's world.

Unfortunately, that could not be said of everyone.

She wasn't alone, and hadn't been for a while. Two elves were trailing behind her, keeping Kyra in their sight but not coming close enough to risk attracting her attention.

"What," whispered the first, "is a child doing wandering near Eregion?"

"Perhaps it is one of the Enemy's spies?" The second elf shot another glance at the girl, who had suddenly started to _sing._ He grimaced and muttered something about it hurting his ears.

"With such an ugly voice, it would not surprise me in the least. Yet do you think the Enemy would take one so obviously brainless into his service? You could scarcely miss her from over twenty leagues away! She makes no effort to remain hidden."

"It may be a trick, a façade to lead us into a false sense of security. It carries a blade of Mordor!"

"Yes, she bears a sword which she obviously does not know how to wield or carry. I doubt she arrived with it; she is conspicuously without a scabbard."

"Really? Where then did it come from? The blade is not rusted, and it is not of the kind that the orcs use. 'She' is probably leading us to a wolf den."

The first elf smiled. "I would think that even a spy of the Black Land would make an effort to keep their hair clean. What she has done is nothing short of assault."

"But…, but…, the _clothes._ Unless the men of Eriador have changed greatly, their young wear actual tunics, not garish squares hung from the shoulders with pieces of string."

"I agree that her clothing is strange. But if she is a spy, then I do not understand why she makes for the Nîn-in-Eilph. There is nothing to be found there, unless He has developed a new taste for swans. If I were a spy, I would seek to discover Imladris with all speed, and make efforts to remain hidden. But this one walks openly, heading away from the House, and towards the Glanduin. If she does hope to take us into a wolf's den, then let us hope that the wolf devours her and is satisfied!"

"You are right; it makes no sense. I pity the wolf that would be so desperate as to eat something so profoundly disgusting. I would leave now, and watch to see if she follows. But I would also be wary and take the longer road to Imladris, lest she hopes to turn and let us lead her."

"All right, it is settled. We will return home, and report to Lord Elrond of a strange child wandering the wilds with a Mordor blade. If she follows, we shoot."

The second elf smiled. He and his companion backed away quietly, but Kyra never noticed them. She was lost in her own little bubble, singing and humming; the dawn was breaking over the horizon, and Kyra was coming closer to the joining of the Hoarwell and the Loudwater. The sun was bright and the sky was cloudless and right then she didn't really care about food or wolves or going home. She could see birds flying far off in the distance, and she figured that she could just catch some a bird and eat it. Meanwhile, the two scouts were making haste towards Rivendell, to tell the Lord Elrond of the things they had seen around Tharbad and the rivers.

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Nîn-in-Eilph - Water of the Swans. Wetlands. 


End file.
